Spilt Wine

By the time of reaching the age of thirty, one would think that you would have a tight grip and understanding on how life works and what it is all about. I am finding that at the age of thirty, one only begins to just get a glimpse of what life is about and that understanding how life works and why things happen the way they do could never be understood by anyone. Perhaps that is the ugly beauty of it all. It cannot be figured out. It’s a lovely mystery, filled with happiness, sorrow, suspension, relief, love and unfortunately hate. This year, the year I turned thirty has been heavy. Heavy beyond calculated weight. In the short amount of time since turning thirty I have watched one of my best friend, a brother, pass while sitting at his bedside. I have stood face to face with my inner demons and most recently; my father had a heart attack. All of the which, as ugly as it is, has really only made the joys of life so much more beautiful and rich. Watching a good friend of mine get married this weekend was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. To see love celebrated was such contrast from the experience the lost of a brother. Though, the two experiences are really not that different. It was love that joined in union that evening and it was love that came together to place a loved one in his final resting place. The anticipation of our second child, my son, is beyond words right now. I am not sure how to wrap my mind around all of this just yet, the beauty of it all, the wonderful cycle of life is more clearly now and something not to be taken for granted.